Vacancy
by RemedyChill
Summary: Rogue slips in to a coma as a result of siphoning off too much of Jeans mind when she was made to steal the rings that became the first key to unleash Apocalypse. Please R/R - and enjoy.
1. Default Chapter

This is a not for profit X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Remedy=Chill; And he don't own nothing but he soul mon ami.

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Vacancy

"Jean!" The Professor barked softly. "What do you think you're doing here?"

Jean gasped, exhaled and hung her head.

"Go to bed Jean." He said sharply before adding a concerned "Please."

Jean bit her lip and wavered in front of the door. Every instinct she had told her to ignore him, push through the door and . . .

And what? She asked herself.

"Yes Professor." She said, not meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry." _And concerned_. . . She added mentally.

"I understand." He said, and immediately regretted it when he felt her anger roar to life like a great and devouring blaze.

"As much as I can." He added quickly. "Now go to bed."

Jean turned her back to him and stalked down the hall away from the infirmary. He could feel her fighting the anger down, although he knew it might take a while. 

Xavier turned his attention back to the door. He could feel Hank within, his options exhausted and his frustration held in check only by his resolve to be useful when, and indeed if, his patient showed any signs of improvement.

And then there was Rogue. Only a faint glimmer of life seemed to remain within the girl. Not even enough for him to detect emotions or awareness from her. It was more like the soft background noise of a soul than a soul itself.

He had of course seen this one time before.

When Jean had first come to him as a child she had telepathicly experienced the death of a close friend.

The result had been the same spiritual catatonia. And in the end it was not Xavier that had pulled Jean back from the brink. Oh, certainly he had been there, reaching and calling, but it was Jean who had heard, listened, and in the end, decided to live.

It was Charles Francis Xavier's greatest hope that as Jean's power passed from Rogue, she would recover. The waiting, however, had long since grown tiresome for all involved.

The mansion was quiet and uneasy that night.

Rogue had drained Jeans powers while Jean was being manipulated in a scheme to recover the first key that would unleash Apocalypse. Jean had crumpled under the slightest touch. Her manipulator had abandoned her at that moment, leaving her completely psychicly and emotionally open to the world in a way that it is not safe for a telepath to be left.

From Jeans perspective there was a momentary flash of a painful memory and then, just the bitter aftertaste of Rogue's mind. A hollow echo that hinted and insinuated at vague arrangements of ideas, all of which would vanish when focused upon. It took almost a full hour for Rogue to manifest the same symptoms and collapse in to her coma.

"Why don't you take your own advice Chuck?" Wolverine was concealed within the shadows at the end of the hall. His arms were crossed and he was leaning with his back to the wall.

"Logan. You startled me. I didn't even sense you there."

"Because you're tired. Mostly." He chewed on an unlit cigar.

"Mostly?" Xavier asked, betraying his exhaustion in his voice.

"Mostly." Wolverine's eyes were nothing more than tiny slits that glinted from within the shadows. "I _was_ being sneaky."

Xavier smiled despite himself. "Well done." He went to wheel himself in to the room.

"Go home Chuck." Wolverine told him flatly. "Go to your room, and go to bed."

Xavier could see Logan's thoughts flickering within his mind. He was prepared to take the Professor back to his room by force if necessary.

"All right." Xavier conceded softly. "You'll wake me?" His eyes betrayed a soft glow of hope.

Wolverine studied that glow with a realists eye. Eventually he seemed to soften. "Sure." He said finally, wincing at the disbelief in his voice. "If there's any change." He added.

Xavier turned his chair slowly and began down the hall. He stopped before the end.

"Logan." He said over his shoulder without looking all the way back. "Thank you."

Wolverine snorted once. Xavier knew that it meant he was welcome, and he continued around the corner and out of sight.

Logan slid slowly down the wall and crouched on the floor, resting on the balls of his feet. He put the cigar in his pocket and instead began chewing on a toothpick.

"Oh, darlin." He said to the closed door. "Just – wake – up." He resisted the urge to go down to the danger room and hit things. "You've got a lot of good folks waiting on you." 

Logan looked expectantly at the door. When it didn't open, he leaned back and settled in for the night.

Jean climbed the stairs slowly. It was the quiet and the stillness of this end of the mansion that had originally sent her off to the infirmary. For all the good it would have done. _After all_ she chided herself, _what was I gong to do, yell at Rogue?_

Not that she didn't want to yell at Rogue on occasion, but no more than anyone else, not really.

Jean slowly crept down the hall. She stopped in front of Scott's door. There was a soft light coming from under the door. It took her a second to realize that it wasn't an electric light. It was swaying slightly – A natural flame.

She took two steps closer and raised her hand to knock.

But then she heard him. " . . . And you know that you've given me more than I could have hoped for in the last few years, a home here – with Xavier, a purpose, even my little brother back – alive and healthy. So much in fact, that I don't feel right to ask _anything_ for myself. But . . . Rogue's a good person, and she's really been trying, so please, God?"

Jean pulled back quietly and froze in place. 

"I just know she _isn't_ _done_ with this life _yet_. . ."

Jean took two hasty steps backwards, retreating from earshot out of self-defense. She stopped short of bumping in to a table in the hallway and took a breath to compose herself. Suddenly the quiet of her room didn't seem all that uncomfortable and she started again, down the hall.

"Kurt!" A hushed voice called down the hall.

"Kurt!" It said again.

"Kitty?" Jean whispered.

"Oh, Hi." Kitty whispered, slipping through Kurt's door. "Have you seen Kurt?" She asked in a hushed tone "He was upset about Rogue and I thought I should check on him." She paused. "But he's not here." She eyed Jean suspiciously. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

Jean counted off her fingers as she spoke. "No." She said, showing the first finger. "I hope he's okay." She counted the next. "And I'm on my way." She smiled wanly and presented her third finger.

"Gotcha." Kitty nodded. "I'm going to check the garden."

"Good luck." Jean whispered and waved as Kitty passed her.

Kurt heard them talking, soft muffled voices within the house. He just didn't feel like being found. 

Kurt lay, stretched out, on the roof of the mansion. It was a cool night but he didn't mind. Kurt took a deep breath and watched the clouds roll across the moon. 

"You know," He said out loud "Life is like the sky." He nodded in silent agreement with himself. "The stars make you think that nothing will ever change." He felt tears welling up inside. "But the clouds remind you that nothing ever stays the same."

He stared out through the night. "How do we live like this?" He asked himself in disbelief. "Always having to deal with both extremes?"

He shook his head and refocused on the stars above and thought of Rogue. "I never had a sister." He said.

He sighed, feeling the sting of tears in the back of his eyes and tasting them in his throat. 

He closed his eyes and thought of Rogue. He brought her face clearly in to his mind and smiled. He saw her laughing. "I hope you're a star." He spoke out loud again.

Kitty phased through the glass doors at the back of the mansion followed the path down to the garden. Once, in the dark, she had walked right past Kurt, because she had mistaken him for a gargoyle statue. She knew he liked the garden, but tonight she didn't see him.

She took one last look around. The soft moonlight played tricks with the colors of the garden. It was really quite peaceful.

She sat down on the cold bench and looked down towards the lake. The moon and clouds were reflected in the rippling water. She took a deep breath and stood up slowly, brushing herself off.

Silently, and deep within, she was asking for a sign. Desperately she wanted some hint that things could end up all-right. Without that, well, without that she fully intended to find and comfort Kurt until it arrived.

She turned slowly and watched the path as she walked. When the mansion was again in view she saw a soft glow coming from one of the rooms.

"Scott?" She asked, counting the number of windows from the left side of the mansion. "What are you . . ."

But she saw soon enough. A moment later she was directly outside Scott's room, looking up to the second floor.

He had left a candle burning in his window.


	2. Vacancy Ch2

"What's wrong with me?" She closed her door and leaned back against it. "Jean, get a hold of yourself." 

She lifted her hand and noticed it was shaking. She quickly looked away.

Her mind threatened to answer her question _: What's wrong with me?_

Because after all, that's what's now wrong with Rogue.

Jean shook her head. And set her jaw. She walked to the bed and sat down on the edge.

"It's not me." She told herself through clenched teeth. "It's the world."

Meanwhile, downstairs, Jamie couldn't sleep either. He had crept down to the living room and curled up in one of the chairs, then divided himself in two. The other him took the opposing chair.

"What's wrong?" The duplicate asked.

"You know." Jamie told him. 

"I know that I know. But you wanted to talk. So – I'm talking."

Jamie smiled ruefully. "I know. I'm sorry."

"It's scary, isn't it?" The duplicate pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them.

Jamie nodded. "What if she dies?" He asked in hushed tones.

"She wont." The duplicate looked away.

"We don't know that." Jamie reminded himself.

"But we're going to remain optimistic." Came another, more commanding voice. 

Both Jamies gasped and whipped their heads around to see Storm sitting across the room, on the far wall, bathed in the shadows.

"We have to have faith." She said softly. "It's all we can do at times like this." She seemed to be smiling softly at him through the darkened room.

Both Jamie's nodded. Finally, the original spoke. "Storm? I hope I'm not out of line," he rubbed the back of his neck. "But, I mean, this could happen to any of us, right? On any mission?"

"Not this, not what's happened to Rogue, this is an isolated conflict between Jean and Rogues abilities and mental states."

"You know what he meant." The other Jamie grumbled. The original was staring at the floor.

"You're right." Storm sighed." I know what you meant. And yes, it could happen to any of us, on a mission, here at home, crossing the street or slipping in the cafeteria at school."

"But we do get in harms way, don't we?" Jamie leveled his eyes at her through the darkness.

"Yes." She said again.

"So don't you think, " He bit his lip.

"What is it?" She whispered

"Shouldn't we know what it's all about?" He seemed intent and focused, but then it dissolved in to embarrassment. "Life." He looked away "I mean." He knew she couldn't answer.

Storm sat quietly. She tried to choose her words carefully.

"It could be that we are not given that answer for a reason." She said, sounding unsure. "And so the best that we can do is trust in our hearts." 

She had both Jamies attention now. "We have to strive to be happy, try not to hurt other people, and hope to fall in love." She told him. "And if that is all our hearts can ever teach us in this world, then maybe it's enough."

Jamie smiled. It was a genuine smile and it came from the heart.

"I'm going to try to go to bed." Storm told him, rising to her feet. "And that's just where I want you to be within the hour." She told him.

"Thank you Ms. Munroe." Jamie looked up at her. "But I'm ready now." He hopped up and pulled himself together.

"Good night then." Storm smiled down at him.

"Good night." He waved and scurried off.

His words echoed through her mind "It could happen to any of us, right?" _He was so young_. She thought. _They're all so young._

Jamie slipped up and in to his room without any trouble at all. When you're used to being a crowd it's easy to be sneaky as an individual.

He pulled out a pen and one of his notebooks. He pulled off the cap and dropped it. It fell away in to the darkness and he heard it scuttle off across the floor.

"Strive" He penned the words "To be happy."

And he smiled slightly.

"Try not to hurt other people." He darkened in the word 'not' and underlined it.

"And hope to fall in love." He finished.

But it didn't look finished.

He tapped his pen twice and bit his tongue in concentration. Something was missing.

And the he remembered.

He raised his pen and wrote on the top line, so that this item was first on the list. "Have faith." And with that he was finally able to climb in to bed and fall asleep. 

In the infirmary, Hank leaned back in his chair.

Al l manner of machine monitored Rogue for him, but he still rose, and slowly lumbered in to the next room to see for himself.

She had slid down the bed. He quickly reduced the angle of the incline and took hold of her, under the arms, but through her blanket.

She was so light that he had trouble believing it. He swallowed although his mouth was dry.

He pulled a stool over to her bedside and took one of her gloved hands. He had seen to the gloves himself, just so people could hold her hand.

"We're trying everything you know." He said softly. "Xavier's got some of the best people, all over the world, working on your case. Right now." He told her.

He sighed, and found a glint of humor. "I know what you're doing." He whispered. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" he chuckled a bit to himself. "I mean, come on. You'll fight Sabertooth, Magneto, even the Juggernaught." He leaned in close and whispered "And I know you've absorbed them all, even Mystique." 

Hank glanced side to side. "Now tell me the truth." He said. "This is all very political, right?" He chuckled as though they were sharing a joke. "It's because you don't like Jean. Now isn't it?" He smiled at her. But it didn't last long. He slowly sat up and let the smile drift from his face. 

"You don't have to tell me." He said, using a single (and safe) fingernail to draw the hair out of her face. "But if you feel like talking, I keep a mean secret." He pursed his lips and rubbed his eyes before standing up and lumbering back to his office.


	3. Vacancy Ch3

Mystique sat alone in her office at Bayville High. Her door was locked and the halls were quiet. The silence was broken by the chink of glass on glass and followed by the sound of pouring liquid.

She cleared her throat and sat up, laying lazily forward to lean on her elbows.

"Again Charles." She lifted the glass to her lips and drained it. "If you'd be so kind." She spoke quietly, and sadly. She mashed the button on the answering machine again and held it too long.

The machine hesitated for a moment, clicked, and began to repeat itself again.

"Hello. This is Charles Xavier. I'm calling to report the expected absence of one of the charges left in my care."

Mystique tuned out the name as he said it. She wiped at her eyes, even forgetting to chide herself for the weakness, and she swept the bottle back up, quickly, off the desk; Perhaps just for the distraction.

". . . While we are hoping that she will not require a lengthy hospital stay, the truth is that we do not know yet. I will, of course, keep you informed, as soon as there is any change in her condition. I ask only that should anyone be concerned, they are informed that we are doing everything possible and sparing no expense . . ."

"Thank you then." She said to the machine. "For that." 

She folded her arms and lay her head down on her desk. And gently, intentionally pushed the bottle, half full, off the desk and in to the trash. 

And she took a deep breath in through her nose, and closed her eyes to feel the room spin and listen for the phone to ring. Not that she would answer. Not that she could speak to them. But she would be there. Listening.

Across town, Forge put the last of a string of new medical inventions in to his backpack. He pulled the straps closed and slung it over his shoulders. It was heavier than he thought. He pulled on a hat and slipped out the door. 

The mansion wasn't all that far, and he knew all the best short-cuts. 

He couldn't stop himself from letting the memories play out. He had been adjusting a device he built that would enable Kurt to teleport further and slow his time in the parallel world he travels through.

"Oh, no doubt man. Without her – The X-Men never would have known we were trapped in that experiment of yours. We owe her big-time." Kurt smiled infectiously.

"I wouldn't have guessed it." Forge had said "She looks a little scary to me."

__

Ow! He thought. _I wish I hadn't said that. _

"They didn't have girls like that when I went to school." He had shrugged. "But they didn't have blue furry mutants either." He smirked "And I know at least one who's all right."

"Kurt bowed modestly. "Hey are we just about ready to try this out? I vant to see what the decorations for the dance look like."

"Whoa, slow down, we wont be ready for an hour yet."

"oh, man …" Kurt's voice trailed off.

He shook off the memory and breathed in the cool night air. He wasn't sure that anything he had in his pack could help. He wasn't completely sure that he understood what was wrong or how it had happened, but if there was any way that technology could be of assistance he was bound and determined that he would see to it.

__

I have to. He hung his head. _I never said 'thank you'_. And he was ashamed. He had always meant to.

He stopped at the corner and stood for just a moment, on the outer rim of a street lamps soft glow.

And he reached out with all the raw emotion within him and proclaimed before the universe. "This is unjust! You must return our sister to us. This is **_not_** her time."

The words were charged and dissipated in to the wind as whispers, and with them went all of his physical strength.

He took a shallow breath and hefted the pack higher on to his shoulders. And began trudging again toward the mansion, his eyes cast down and his feet now heavy as his heart.

Back on the roof of the mansion Kurt saw a shooting star.

"Come on." He told it playfully "You know vat I vant." And he thought again of Rogue, this time he saw her angry at him, and chasing him – Because he had sprayed her with the hose.

"I know I can be a spaz sometimes." He shrugged sheepishly at his friend the sky "But isn't that what a little brother is supposed to be?" His eyes were imploring, reflecting the multitude of shimmering night stars. "I didn't even know we were related then." He explained. "I mean, I come by it honestly, right?" 

He suddenly felt very small and alone. 

"This morning." He said softly, with Rogue's face fresh in his mind "I thought you looked really pretty." He cast his eyes down off the roof of the house and to his left; towards Scott's window. "And he's a _fool_ not to have noticed." He told her. "I know you didn't think anyone else saw it." He inhaled slowly and felt another wave of sadness coming. "But I _vant_ to look out for you." He pressed his eyes closed. "_Family_ does that." He told himself, clenching his hands in to fists and setting his jaw.

And he realized exactly how angry he was. He began to shake in rage. _How dare Mezmero endanger my family like this?_ And he felt himself go suddenly cold, right through to the bone. He knew this was an adrenaline rush, like in the danger room, but he had never had one from sheer anger before.

He relaxed his fists and raised his hand. It was shaking.

"Great." He thought. And he lay back to let it pass. He felt the adrenaline weakness begin to set in and he was suddenly tired. He turned once more to the stars above. "Just get better soon." He said, although not altogether sure if he was speaking to his sister, the stars, or himself. 

Jean was staring out her window. The wind was gently sweeping through the trees, making them sway in time.

Her thoughts were in the distant past.

She didn't remember going in to her own coma, only emerging and eventually recovering her pre-coma memories.

She remembered waking up. Xavier was like a distant buzzing fly, calling her name. But somewhere inside she had found a chord and she struck it herself. And it rose through her until she thought she would shake apart and shatter.

Then she opened her eyes and saw Xavier, smiling down, and the doctors in their coats moving about the room.

But what was that chord? In the coma it had seemed like an idea or an event that had swept her along and sent her clattering through half the minds on the planet as she retreated in to herself.

Now all that remained was a vague notion that she had seen the way and followed it.

She was too tired to be frustrated any more and she let herself sink down in to her chair to watch the clouds roll across the moon.


	4. Vacancy Ch4

Rogue stood up slowly, keeping one hand on her head. "Jeesh, Jean. That memory was a, like a, like a brick wall. I didn't know what . . ." She looked around in disbelief. "Hit me?"

The sky above pulsated with light, mostly white, but with every color of the rainbow as well. The ground below her, for as far as she could see, looked as though it were in fact a brick wall that had been laid on it's side. Dotted with real trees, shrubs, fire hydrants, and the occasional one of each that was made out of brick. 

And suddenly, Rogue spied the little girl. She was blonde and wore a wide smile. "Come on." She waved that Rogue should approach her. "It's this way." But the girl had vanished and the voice had come from behind her. Rogue whipped around.

And the girl was standing in the distance behind her. "She's over here." The girl called. "You have to come get her." 

"Who?" Rogue called back. "Who's over there?" She was distracted by a brick cloud floating lazily by.

The little girl appeared at her side and startled her. "Why, Jean. Of course." She looked in to the distance. "She shouldn't come back here."

"Why not?" Rogue kneeled down and went to touch the girl on the shoulder.

"Oh, no." The girl jumped away. "You must never touch me." The girl warned, motioning side to side with one finger." She leaned in to whisper without tone, but loudly, as children do "Not even with your gloves on." And she shook her head, a mixed look of fright and concern on her face.

"Oh, Okay." Rogue had pulled her hand back to her chest. "Take me to Jean." She said.

And for a moment the ground seemed to shift under them, and they seemed to move not at all, and then they were in a park, watching a little red haired girl playing in a sandbox.

She was dumping a full bucket over, and lifting it off, trying to begin a sandcastle. The sand however seemed to be made of small, polished, round granules of red brick and refused to hold a shape. The girl made a pouty face and looked like she might cry.

"She's really tired." The first girl said. "She needs a nap."

The girl in the sandbox shot her friend a dirty look.

"I do not." The red haired girl said – and when she spoke, Rogue could tell. It was Jean.

"Jean?" Rogue asked, lowering herself to see the girl. "Is that you?"

Jean cocked her head and considered. She then pointed one little finger at the white shock of Rogues hair. "Rogue." Was all she said.

Rogue shrugged to herself. "Okay." She turned back toward the other little girl, but discovered that she was now standing directly opposite her, across the sandbox.

"You have to take her home now." The little girl said. "It's not safe for her to stay anymore."

"But how do ah get there. I don't even know where ah am."

"This is how she thought it happened." The little girl said. "The last time we played together was here. " She looked at the sandbox. "And she thought that if we had just stayed here, if she had just stayed with me . . ." The little girl suddenly looked very serious and her eyes betrayed a fierce and adult intelligence. "But she was wrong. And I told her so. And she cried and she ran down the path and she went home." The little girl looked outraged. "So why did you help her come back?" She was shaking all over, her little hands clenched in to fists. 

"Ah, I think it was an accident." Rogue told her slowly. "We didn't mean to come here."

"Then you have to go." The little girl said, this time from just beyond Rogue's left elbow. The girl made a sweeping motion with her arm. As a result, many of the bricks that made up the ground behind her began to sink, forming a path several inches deeper than the surroundings. It led out of sight past a large brick tree, covered in brick leaves that swayed with some imaginary breeze.

Rogue looked back at 'Jean'. "Is it safe to touch her?" Rogue asked the girl.

But the girl was gone. A giggle did echo through the playground, followed by the girls voice. "Of course." She said, and giggled again. "She's **_is_** still alive. " She said matter-of-factly.

And Rogue looked at the tired and sad little girl in the sandbox.

And she picked her up.

Back in the real world Hank McCoy lowered himself in to his chair.

He was exhausted but comforted. Forge had arrived, bearing gifts no less, and after explaining them and helping to install several, he promptly fell asleep in an out of the way chair.

Beast looked at the clock. It was almost four a.m. 

__

Please. He thought absently_, Let her slowed metabolism be the reason for the length of these effects._ And he inhaled deeply, dropped his head, and began massaging the bridge of his nose. 

Rogue stood up and turned toward the path. And she was distracted by a hissing noise behind her.

She cast an eye over her shoulder, back to the sandbox. It was as thought someone had pulled a plug from the bottom and the sand was flowing out like an hourglass. Then the hole began to expand.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me." Rogue breathed, turning and sprinting down the path as the sandbox fell in to itself and disappeared.

And then Rogue realized that the path was circular, tracing itself (and the hole) in an ever expanding spiral.

A panic gripped her and she clutched Jean close with one arm and pumped her legs in a mad effort to escape. But the more she tried to escape, the slower she seemed to be going. She felt as if she were going numb from some almost undetectable vibration, and losing her ability to focus.

And then she noticed that the bricks were falling away from right behind, and then right under her feet as she tried to run. She was losing ground.

But then there was a light, still distant and vague, but she made for it all the same.

One, two, three agonizing steps later, she realized it was a stained glass window, depicting a door.

Jean was screaming, reaching back over Rogues shoulder toward the now vanished park and sandbox. The dull roar of raining brick filled both of their ears. Rogue felt her footing giving way and with one last ounce of strength she threw herself toward the window. 

Rogue pulled Jean in close and shielded her from the impact. She lashed out with a ferocious kick and broke the window in front of them.

And suddenly she felt as though it were not the window that was breaking, but herself. She was shaking apart. And the noise of the glass as it shattered, while it sounded like glass breaking, was also very obviously a million voices speaking all at once. Rogue recognized a handful as she passed, and they jumped out at her.

"Oh, darlin, Just – wake – up." 

" . . .and she's really been trying, so please, God?"

"Again Charles. If you'd be so kind."

"This is unjust!"

"I hope you're a star."

"What if she dies?"

__

Ow! _I wish I hadn't said that._

"We have to have faith."

'thank you'

"Strive to be happy."

"This is **_not_** her time"

"Shouldn't we know what it's all about?"

__

They're all so young.

"It's because you don't like Jean, Now isn't it?"

"Try not to hurt other people."

"I keep a mean secret."

"But I _vant_ to look out for you."

"This is all very political, right?"

"I just know she _isn't_ _done_ with this life _yet_. . ."

"… And hope to fall in love." 

One of Forges machines began to repeat a signal. Hank rose expectantly from his chair and looked in anticipation towards the next room. Forge smiled, rolled over and continued to sleep. Somewhere upstairs a candle quietly burned itself out.

Hank shuffled quickly towards the still motionless Rogue.

He thought he had seen her eyelids flutter. A moment later he was sure, as they did it again. "Rogue." He said softly, taking her hand. "I'm here Rogue. Can you hear me?" he squeezed her hand softly and she squeezed back as her eyelids fluttered again, and opened this time. 

She looked at him and smiled, took a deep breath and sat slowly forward.

"What does a girl have to do to get some waffles around here?" She asked. "Ah'm famished." 

EPILOGUE:

"Hello, this is Professor Charles Xavier again. Please disregard my last message. The situation has been resolved and she is now feeling much more her old self again. We expect her to be back in classes on this coming Tuesday. Please feel free to call should there be any further concerns, questions or issues that need to be addressed. Thank you." 

Click.


End file.
